


Clearing of Conscience

by SchuuButt



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Trikey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22794685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchuuButt/pseuds/SchuuButt
Summary: Michael finally explains everything to Trevor, and decides to stop being a snake and lying about everything, even to himself.
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 8
Kudos: 96





	Clearing of Conscience

**Author's Note:**

> It always kind of bugged me that Michael never gives Trevor the whole story, soo I wrote it myself, with some uh- artistic liberties? This is my first trikey fic so apologies in advance if it's sort of awkward.

It had been a couple of weeks since Trevor and Michael had successfully pulled off ‘The Big One.’ The FIB were no longer a problem, and the situation that went down in North Yankton was somewhat of an elephant in the room. Michael had apologised since then, but he knew there were plenty of unanswered question still hanging in the air. Questions that Trevor hadn’t explicitly asked, but Michael knew he should answer.

He invited Trevor over to his house for a drink, although by the time Trevor arrived Michael was already sufficiently drunk. He felt he had to be for what he was planning to get off his chest. It didn’t matter how hard this was going to be though, Michael had spent enough time in denial, he was ready to tell Trevor the truth. All of it.

“Hey Mikey,” Trevor greeted after walking in through the unlocked front door. He made himself comfortable on the couch and Michael handed him a beer. He looked between the bottle now in his hand and the glass of whisky in Michael’s, glaring slightly. “Keeping the good stuff for yourself, huh, Sugartits?”

Michael let out a sigh, choosing to pace in front of the couch instead of sitting. “I just needed something stronger alright, T? I’ve got some shit I need to get off my chest.”

Trevor leaned forward with a look of intrigue. “Oh really?”

“Yeah…” Michael took a large gulp from his glass. “Listen T, after all the shit that’s happened recently, I’ve come to realise something. Lying, and cheating, all it’s done is made me fucking miserable. I want to come clean, alright? Wipe the slate, start over.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow, looking Michael up and down with suspicion. “Wow, that’s got to be strange and unfamiliar territory for a snake like you, huh?”

Michael ran a hand down his face with a groan. “Can you just shut it and listen, Trevor? I’m trying to be honest here. I’m not gonna be able to do this if you keep throwing sarcastic comments my way.”

Trevor paused. He could tell Michael was serious. “Alright,” he said slowly, leaning back on the couch. “I’m listening.”

Michael let out another sigh, sitting next to Trevor and turning to face him. “Back in North Yankton, all those years ago, Amanda gave me an ultimatum. She said that I either quit the life, or never see the kids again. That was the catalyst for what went down. I tried to talk to you about giving it all up, about going straight, but you wouldn’t hear it, T. You told me the life was all you had, it was all you were good at…”

“Yeah… yeah, I remember.” Trevor nodded slowly.

“One night, at a bar,” Michael continued, “I got drunk, and I was ranting to this guy next to me about all the shit I had on my mind. Then, he says ‘I can make all your problems disappear.’ Turns out, he was FIB, Dave Norton. He said we could fake my death, he’d take credit, and I’d be able to live the high life somewhere with my family.”

“Uh huh…” Trevor squinted, running his tongue over his teeth in thought. “And where did me and Brad come into all this?”

“Brad wasn’t the issue. Leaving the life had never been an option for you, Trevor. You always said so…” Michael tried to explain, tried to justify. “I knew you wouldn’t want to go straight, wouldn’t be able to let the life go.” He paused, looking his friend in the eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to let _me_ go, T. Not unless… well, unless I was dead.” Michael stopped, watching Trevor’s expression. He was listening intently, taking him seriously, something Michael was grateful for, but it would only get harder from here. “When I realised that, T… all I could think about was how you’d mourn. You were my best friend, a brother, and honestly, I couldn’t bear the thought of you mourning my death. Grief stricken and alone, while I lived it up in secret with my family. So I…” Michael trailed off as Trevor’s eyes bore into his, the faintest glisten of tears on the man’s lower eyelids. He could tell Trevor knew where this was going, but he had to say it. He _had_ to get it off his chest. “The bullet that hit Brad…” Michael’s voice lowered to a soft whisper. He swallowed, this was it. “That bullet was meant for you, T. It’s true.” He watched as Trevor’s eyes went wide. Even after everything, he hadn’t seen hurt in Trevor’s eyes before like he did right then. It pained him to see. It made Michael’s chest ache. Trevor opened his mouth to speak but Michael quickly interrupted, he had to explain. “I’m so sorry, Trevor. I thought… I convinced myself it was a kindness. I told myself it was a mercy killing. That you would be better off dead than left to grieve your fallen brother with no one left to rely on. Brad was gonna go straight, and I told myself you would be better off dead than alone!” Michael paused, taking a deep breath and briefly closing his eyes. “But I’m tired of being in denial. All these years, I was just a coward. I was too afraid to face the thought of you mourning me when I wasn’t even dead. I was too selfish to face a decision that would leave you hurting. Even over these past 10 years, I only got by convincing myself you were evil and probably dead. I told myself you were a sick, twisted monster, that it justified what I did, and that you were probably just some corpse in a ditch somewhere, because even that was easier to stomach than the truth of the choices I made. The truth that I’d betrayed my best friend and he was out in the world hurting, all because of me. I was just a pathetic coward.” He watched Trevor’s face, grief stricken and betrayed, and Michael regretted every decision he’d made since meeting Dave in North Yankton. Agreeing to let his best friend be shot was the biggest mistake of his life, but it wasn’t something he could change now. “I understand if you can’t forgive me for this, Trevor, but I want you to know that… after all this, I’m glad that bullet missed. I’m glad you’re alive, I’m glad you found me all these years later, and I want you to understand that I wouldn’t be telling you all this, right now, if I didn’t want you in my life.” Michael inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling short of breath. He’d done it, it was over. What happened next was out of his hands, but at least his conscience would be clear.

For the longest time, Trevor just stared at Michael. His eyes were wide, desperately searching his old friend’s face, looking for any sign that this was just another deceptive lie. How could it be, though? Michael had no gain from lying about this. Finally, Trevor knew the truth... but the pain he felt made him wish he’d lived in ignorance. He wished he’d never seen that news report on the TV, and never come searching for the ghost of his old friend after 10 years of mourning. Trevor wanted to explode, he wanted to punch Michael square in the jaw and set his house on fire, but he couldn’t. He felt so conflicted, so torn, he had so much to take in. He needed to think, and drink, and smoke, and do an ungodly cocktail of various drugs just to process all this.

Trevor tore his gaze away from Michael, no longer able to look at the man, and quickly rose to his feet. “I… I need to go,” was all he managed to awkwardly stutter, avoiding Michael’s eyes as he skirted round the couch and made for the front door.

“T, Trevor, wait! I’m sorry!” Michael stood and called after him, but the only response he received was the sound of the front door closing.

Trevor got into his truck and drove. He drove and drove until he finally reached the familiar desert roads of Sandy Shores, finding his trailer and kicking in the door. He let out a cry of fury and despair as he proceeded to ransack his home, destroying anything he could get his hands on in an emotion fuelled rampage.

Trevor then spent the next few days in a drug induced haze, struggling to cope with the knowledge that his best friend had planned his murder all those years before. He began to sober up again after the best part of a week, but he continued to ignore all calls, texts and emails to his phone, as well as visitors knocking at his door. For the most part it was just Ron, trying to make sure Trevor hadn’t OD’d at any point during his… stupor, but a few of the texts and calls had been from Michael. Trevor refused to even open those messages though.

It was on one of the more sober days that Trevor spent wallowing on his bed, in the same clothes he’d left Michael’s in, lamenting the fact he was sober but not wishing to move in order to rectify that, that Trevor heard a knocking on his door. He let out a loud groan, waving a hand dismissively towards the closed door.

“Fuck off, Ron! I’m not dead!” he called out, expecting it to be one of his neighbour’s routine check-ups.

However, instead of Ron’s usual ‘ok boss!’ followed by the sound of him scurrying off the porch, there was just more knocking instead.

“I said fuck off!!” Trevor yelled, even louder, and more irritated this time.

There was just more banging, harder now and continuing on for longer.

“For fuck sake,” Trevor clambered off his bed and stumbled towards his front door where the banging was currently persisting. He threw the door open so fast he nearly pulled it off the hinges. “Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, before even registering that Michael was the one stood in front of him.

Michael’s stance was firm, his fists and jaw clenched, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He looked determined.

“M… Michael,” Trevor’s voice softened substantially and he took a step back, quickly averting his gaze from the man before him. He couldn’t look at him. “What are you doing here, Michael?” he wanted to sound angry, but his tone was laced with too much sadness. “I’m not ready to speak to you ye-”

Trevor was interrupted as Michael abruptly stepped in front of him, placing his hands either side of the taller man’s face, and suddenly pressing his lips against his. He froze in shock, his eyes wide and staring at Michael’s face, at his closed eyes and furrowed brows. It took him a moment to process what was actually happening, before his mind finally caught up and his clenched fist promptly smashed into the side of Michael’s face.

“Ack! Jesus!” Michael stumbled, his back hitting the railing of Trevor’s porch. He blinked and rubbed the side of his face, shaking his head with a loud “Whoo, boy! Should’ve seen that one coming!”

Trevor spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his scuffed hand, looking down at his knuckles in disbelief. “What the fuck?! What the fuck! Michael! What the fuck was that??” Trevor swore and sputtered in shock, confusion and a certain level of outrage.

“What?” Michael shrugged innocently, “you weren’t answering my calls.”

“So you show up and fucking… fucking molest me??” Trevor struggled for words, his mind racing.

“I didn’t molest you!” Michael frowned, although a red blush was quickly engulfing his features, despite his attempts to retain his usual cool demeanour. “T, Trevor… fuck, how do I explain this?” Michael ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace on Trevor’s porch. “Listen, what I said back at my place… after you left, I realised something. I haven’t been happy since those days back in Ludendorff. Hell, before you came back, I hadn’t felt happy in years. I told you, T, I’m done lying, and I’m done lying to myself. I had to see you. I had to see… if this is what I really wanted. What I wanted all along but was too afraid to admit.” Michael took a deep breath, he finally felt like all the weight had lifted off his shoulders, he wouldn’t have to deny it any longer. “It’s you, Trevor. I want _you_.”

Trevor felt like he couldn’t breathe. Was this real? Was this really happening, or was this just some drug induced hallucination? His fists were balled at his sides, shaking with pent up feelings, and he bit down on his lip hard. He felt ready to explode. A growl erupted from deep within him, growing louder until Trevor was practically screaming. “God! Fuck you, Michael Fucking Townley! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!!” he yelled, his nails digging into his palms, his heart pounding in his chest. “You think you can just… fucking call me up one day, tell me that all along you planned to fake your death, and kill me off too so you didn’t have to deal with the fucking aftermath, and then show up on my doorstep days later, and proclaim your fucking love for me??” he continued to scream. “And I would just… fall into your fucking arms like some Goddamn Disney princess while we ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after?!” Tears began to sting Trevor’s eyes, his hands visibly shaking as he stepped towards Michael and poked him in the chest as he spoke. “Well fuck you, Townley! This ain’t gonna to go down like that! This ain’t gonna fucking go down like that!!” Trevor grabbed Michael by the collar and pulled him into a rough, sudden kiss, tears rolling down his cheeks as he felt Michael seize up in surprise before eventually kissing him back. Once they parted Trevor’s chest heaved as he began to sob, his tense shoulders falling as he started crying openly. “Fuck you, Michael… fuck you, fuck you…” his swearing faded to loud wails as he fell forward into Michael’s embrace, slinging his arms round the shorter man’s neck and sobbing onto his shoulder.

Michael patted Trevor’s back soothingly as he let the other man cry, a smile faintly spread across his lips. “I know, T. I know. It ain’t gonna go down like that. There’s no way you’d fall into my arms like some princess…” Michael couldn’t help but jab lightly as he held Trevor in his arms.

“Shut the fuck up,” came the muffled response between wet sobs on Michael’s shoulder.

Michael chuckled deeply, looking up to sky as the setting sun cast an orange glow on the clouds above. For the first time in 10 years, Michael’s was happy. Really, truly happy.


End file.
